"No, dear aunt," he replied, "but you see he wasn't engaged to a person of—well, of the same class as Evie.—Ah! fifteen love, Geoff, old boy. That will rankle by-and-bye in the mind of our aunt."
Lady Oxted put her nose in the air, as if she had caught the whiff of a bad smell.
"Can you explain the idiocy of your smile when you entered?" she asked.
"Rather. I was just going to, when you began to be personal. Three Sundays ago, when Evie was down at Vail, she went out walking, after lunch, with Uncle Francis. Do you remember, dear aunt, and you snored loud and long under the trees on the lawn all that blessed afternoon? Yes, I see you remember. Well, they met—O Lord! you can't beat this—they met Jim and the dairymaid walking out all properly in the wood, and Evie thought, until she came back and found me on the lawn, she seriously thought Jim was me. She was furious: I got her to confess that she was furious. Great Scott! she thought I was flirting with the dairymaid. I knew a maid worth two of her!"
Lady Oxted began to attend suddenly in the middle of this.
"And what did Mr. Francis say?" she asked. "Did he also think it was you?"
"I don't know. Evie didn't mention him, and then we began talking—well, we began talking about something else.—Poor old Geoff, how goes it? If you give me the flue, I'll poison your beef-tea, and you may lay it to that. It's all the Luck."
Lady Oxted sighed.
"Jack and Jill went up the hill," she remarked.
"Yes, you may laugh if you like," said Harry, "but I'm beginning to believe in the Luck. I paid my penalty, and now I'm getting the reward. Oh, a big one! Did anybody ever hear of such Luck?" he demanded.